Moonlight
by SummerHarvest
Summary: Mark knew taking on his deceased father's farm would be no easy task, not a task he really wanted either. And given the strange suspicious stares he receives from the villagers and the strange occurrences on the farm, he's not sure if it is a task he should have taken at all. This fanfic is a slight mixture between HM AWL and HM DS. -Hiatus-
1. Emergence

"You look so much like your father. I'm sure he would be very proud of you taking over the farm" Takakura said to Mark as he gave him the grand tour of the old farm. It has been years since Mark had last seen it. He left the farm when he became a man. The city life was glittery but not satisfying. When he got word that his father had passed, he decided to take a go at the agricultural life again.

"Well, yeah ma always did say I took after the guy" Mark tried to grin. He wasn't too sure about this investment. He had never run a farm alone, now he has to make money. Strangely enough, when he had arrived, there were no animals already on the land. Mark would've just expected that his father kept animals. Hopefully they didn't up and die with the old man. Mark had to admit that wasn't too close to his father. Before his father even moved way out to the Valley, he had owned a small farm. Mark could remember the little ducklings that would waddle on their land and the sole cow they owned who would never give milk. It was small but it worked for some time.

Then the fighting started. Old dad wanted him to take over and Mark wanted to see the city. As he grew, his father isolated himself in the shed for hours at a time, rarely coming in before dusk. Mother soon left and Mark was convinced that it was his father's fault for neglecting her. More fighting. Mark soon felt forced to help the farm just so they wouldn't drown. The bills were coming in faster than bullets. He couldn't do anything right according to his father. He didn't give the chicken's enough feed, the cows too much. The seeds were scattered too sloppy, too lazy. He didn't know how to order, how to ship, how to do anything.

After a year of screaming into the late night and twice after throwing punches just to end up picking his ass up off the ground, Mark just walked away. He didn't turn back to see how his father was surviving on a farm with just one cow. Now, looking at the farm in forget-me-not he wondered how he was able to up and move to the valley. From what Takakura had mentioned, he and Mark's father were friends as schoolboys. Takakura dropped out to take care of the farm in the Valley and father continued for a year after that but met Mark's mother and started their farm together in their home town.

They approached the lonesome house and Mark looked it over. There was a dog already on the land and it ran up and hopped on him as soon as it saw him. "Oh look, he must know you're family" Takakura laughed. Mark smiled, he wasn't a big dog person but the little guy was cute. He patted the dog on the face until it pushed itself off him and went to his food bowl parked right outside the house.

He went to the wooden door expecting to see Takakura following him in but he remained stiff a few yards away. "It's late so why don't you sleep now. We can talk tomorrow" he said with his arms folded behind his back. With a nod as he went to push the door open. Just as Mark's hand was to press the wood he felt a void of cool air. The door drifted open with a low creak. Weird. Mark made a mental note to have the door looked at.

Inside, the home was darkened by dust and he almost choked on it upon entering. The walls and furniture were layered with particles thick as sawdust. Hasn't the man ever cleaned his home? The father only died a week ago. Mark rubbed his finger atop one of the bookshelves leaving a trail lined by crusted dust. He came to a smooth yellowish material hardened on it. Candle wax?

He glanced around the room looking for candles. None. On the table tops and desk, ends of the bed, waxy residue hardened on. Looking around the room he was regretting signing up for this. It was already late in the evening and he was tired from the trip so he thought he'd get some sleep. Not wanting to sleep in the stiff and dusty blankets of his father's bed _, and also feeling uncomfortable because it was his father's bed,_ he decided to go to the inn for the night. He had some money on him that he was able to scrounge from work.

The town itself wasn't that big either. There weren't even paved roads until the path hits the mansion. He could see the bright white stone from where he was standing, outside the inn. Getting a room wasn't too hard and the woman behind the counter was nice. As he approached she began to smile, "I haven't seen you before", he grinned in response. It was only as he explained that he was taking over his father's farm that her smile faded.

"Oh…" She pressed a hand to her mouth "your father…?"

Confusion was waving over his head as he tilted his head. What did that mean? It was the tone of her voice that made him uncomfortable. _Your father…_

Before she could apologize for her rudeness, they were interrupted by a sneer. "Ah, so do you bathe in blood too?"

"Rock!" the woman blasted loud enough to burst his ear drums. It caught him off guard and he squeaked as he jumped. Mark looked back to the stairs. There was some guy, around his age except he's clearly on the short side. He was leaning over the railing his hands tucked his elbows.

"What? I bet you wanna know too, mom" _Mom?_ He noted that although the two look nothing alike. Maybe he resembles the father….? As he thought, Rock turned to him, "Well? Do you?"

Mark was taken aback and the woman-Ruby, she later told him- scolded him. "Rock, how many times do I need to tell you to be polite? Apologize" Rock sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Whatever" he sighed again and ascended the steps.

"I am so sorry for my son's rude behavior" she bowed, "Please forgive him, he's quite the fool"

"No, yeah… it's fine" he waved. Still, he was off put by what he said. _Do you like to bathe in blood?_ His voice was almost laughing too. He stayed the night despite the awkwardness. His mind was filled. As he walked to his room he thought he heard noises. Walking. As he was turning into his room for the night-because he wasn't going to busy himself with someone's footsteps- he caught the tail end of a girl- a redhead- entering her room.

The next morning, he trekked up to the farm to get to working. Leaving the inn wasn't a problem as he felt uncomfortable just being in the same building as that _Rock_ character. He didn't see him on the way out but he did see the redhead. She's a lot cuter in front that from behind. When he came to the valley, he wasn't betting on finding any babes but… anyways…

Back on the farm, Takakura had already bought some seeds for him to start with, which he greatly appreciated. Without any animals, he would have to make a profit solely from crops, hopefully the seeds are high quality.

Turns out they were basic seeds. Mark wasn't too happy to see that when Takakura handed him them. The dusty soil field beside his home was sandy at best. He spent his time tilling it but the soil shifted this way or that way and was scattered by the wind. He had completely forgotten about Rock's strange comment. Just then he thought he heard a creaking. Lifting his head from the ground, he glanced around the tall grass of the feeding field and to the places surrounding it. He heard it again but this time he thought he saw something move in his peripheral vision.

The door to the coop swung open and was shaking. He dropped his hoe onto the ground and went to it. The old door was still solid in his grasp. He took a quick peep on the inside. Some part of him still felt like it was still his father's farm and that he shouldn't be so nosy. The inside was dark and bird feed was scatter on the floor outside the feeder, like someone lifted the bag and dumped it all out and just let it tumble where it may.

Anyways, he shut the door. He pushed and pulled on the handle to check it and it felt solid. Just as it he did so, he heard another rusty creaking. Mark rolled his head to see the door to his home open.

Mark pushed away from the door he was standing in front of and went to his home. The door was flimsy and when slammed shut, rebounds and wobbles. He'd have to have Takakura take a look at it. He was much closer than the carpenter the next town over. When he told Takakura about it, he fixed it quickly and Mark just went back planting.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, he went inside for the day. The refrigerator bare except for the few fish that Takakura stocked for him. The meal he made was plain but effective. When you've been working for hours at a time, taste becomes a little less important.

It felt very awkward lying in his father's bed. He had to beat out all the dust but the blankets were still dusty and cold. He kicked his legs and twisted, trying to get comfy to no avail. The worn mattress had a permeant dent in it that it felt like the inside had been hollowed out. Mark rested in it. He could only imagine that his father left the dent. He never knew just how big his father was.

Despite the bed being cramped and uncomfortable, he managed to drift away. The blanket soon warmed and surrounded him like the walls of a cave. As he slept a breeze cooled his cheeks and nose. He shifted and his eyes cracked open in small slits.

A window. Curtains ebbed and flowed in the breeze. Not wanting to move but knowing he's going to have to, he got up and shuffled slowly to it. It was the second window closeted to the door. The window wasn't that big and Mark reached up and pulled the pane down. He was kind of dizzy as he drifted back to bed.

It was two a.m. when he awoke again. The room was shadowy and bathed in a phantom blue from the windows. As he was going back to sleep he saw some movement that wasn't right. The curtains. All of them still except one. In the pale moonlight, a set of curtains was raising and falling, waving to him in the nightlight. He sat up, ripping the thick blanket from himself. A deep howl came in through the window.

The same window was now open again. He poked his head out of it. The leaves of the trees and bushes looked dark blue. He moved back inwards and shut the window again, this time making sure to slam it.

When morning came, Mark rose with the sun. He nibbled on what was left of the fish in the kitchen. It was stuffy inside so he propped open the kitchen window. He would have to devote some time to cleaning this place up. Cleaning has never been his forte so he figured he should get a wife soon. Maybe that redhead.

As he was leaving he felt a tinge of confusion. Right as he was about to step out the door, he noticed the second window was open.


	2. Villagers

The next day was mainly uneventful, he watered, planted, and visited the town. He was pretty eager to go to the bar especially after the encounter at the inn. If anywhere was a good place to make friends then the bar would be it. Despite being early in the afternoon, he heard music trickling through an open window. The old withered sign read, The Blue Bar.

Mark only popped the door open a crack and peeped through and he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. Blonde and curvy, leaning over the counter. Oooh, this is gonna be good. He suddenly felt better about moving to the Valley. Making sure to puff out his chest and stroll in like he's knows what's-what. "Oh-hellllooo" she drew out upon seeing him.

"Hello, fair maiden" he came to the main counter and cringed ever-so-slightly at the greeting. She giggled though so it couldn't have been too bad. "I haven't seen you before. You must be new" she said with a grin. "Yes, I'm the new farmer" he pointed in the general direction of the farm. "Well, that's good! We could use a new farmer"

"Yeah, I'm here to take over the farm up yonder"

"Well of course, what other farm is in the Valley?" she leaned in close as she laughed. Her nose wrinkled in an ugly way that was cute to him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Ha" he scratched at his hair. "I'm still in the process of moving in right now. It wouldn't be bad if there weren't so much cob webs and candles"

"C-candles?" the tone of her voice made his goofy expression break for half a second. "Oh, I just was surprised there being a lot of cobwebs, the owner didn't pass too long ago" That didn't explain why she said 'candles' though. "Yeah, it was pretty intense and it's so cold! The window inside just opens by itself. It's kind of creepy. I thought dad would take better care of his house"

He was startled by the sound of glass breaking. She was staring right at him with her hands in the same position as when she was cleaning the glass. He wasn't sure what to say. The corner of this mouth tugged into a forced grin. He didn't like the look in her eye but soon it didn't matter.

"Oh sorry!" she regained her bouncy composure so fast it could've him whiplash. She dropped to the floor and started plucking up the shattered pieces. In the meantime, he sat on a stool waiting. Just then the door to the back opened and a man with bristled eyebrows tangled with brown and grey emerged.

"Did something break out here?" The man asked with hand on the door and the neck of a guitar in the other. "Uh… yeah" Mark pushed up on the counter to get a better look at the woman sweeping the glass into her hands. "Oh, no don't worry Griffin! I just dropped a glass" So his name is Griffin, Mark couldn't help but think. She rose passed the counter with the shards in her palms. Mark reached across the counter to take the shards-he was wearing gloves after all- but without even looking to him, she cut her figure away from him. She quickly scuttled out of the room, her heels clattering on the hard wood. Mark thought he saw a quick glance between her and Griffin.

Just as he settled his eyes on her retreating figure, his peripheral vision was filled with the man-Griffin, standing on the other side of the counter. "I don't believe we have met. I'm Griffin, the owner of the bar" he thumbed back to the door the woman when through, "and she's Muffy"

Muffy. Not a bad name. _Muffy_ , he rolled his head, like her _fluffy_ blonde hair. "Interesting name. Well mine's Mark. I'm the new farmer" he reached out his hand to shake which Griffin took it no hesitation. "I run the bar from most of the day, though late in the evening is when it's the most lively"

"Well, I do plan to come back" his vision drifted to door Muffy was behind, "definitely". Despite the strange occurrence, she was still fine. Hot damn. If it weren't for the silence from Griffin, Mark may not have glanced to his straight expression. It was as if his intentions were obvious, not that Mark made any effort to conceal his interest in the blonde woman. Still, something about the dark hollowness in his eyes made Mark quiver in his spot. He's never felt so… seen before. It was just then that the back door opened again with Muffy returning without the glass.

"Did you cut your hands?" he called to her, feeling Griffin's eyes on him. Muffy didn't respond immediately and in that time Mark had never put so much focus into looking at one thing while avoiding something else. No part of him wanted to even see Griffin. It was only when he heard Griffin speak to Muffy, that he felt the tension torn away. What the hell?

"I'm fine. It's not the first time I've dropped a glass" she smiled. The door opened behind him and in entered two guys jabbering. Mark rolled his head over his shoulder to see them. He almost missed them they were so short. Both the same height. With the same hair, and faces. Twins? The only thing that distinguished them was the color of their one-strap overalls. One blue, the other green. They were passing behind him when he felt them stop behind him suddenly then proceed to walk. He side eyed them.

"An' who are you?" one of them asked. It was one in the blue. Mark rotated his body to face him only slightly. "I'm the new farmer up yonder" he tried to smirk. The guy was what- 4 feet tall? He had an intense look about him though, even more so than his twin counterparts. His hair was wiry and curled like old electrical wires and his skin was splotched with red blotches, possible sun damage. But it was his eyes that separated him from the other, they were much more focused, calculated than his twin. Despite this intensity, Mark wasn't intimidated, not that he should be either.

"Oh, finally it's been a while since that old man kicked the bucket" Mark's brow furrowed. He wasn't close to his father but he still wasn't too sure how he felt by that remark. It was the clink of a glass against the counter top that distracted him enough to look. Griffin had a glass frothing set out beside Mark.

"Mark, why don't you have your first drink at the bar. Don't worry, it's on the house" The two hopped up on the stools to the left of him. 'Hop' wasn't an exaggeration either, the two seemingly had to hop to fully get on the seats due to their short stature. The one beside him was in the green, he soon found out his name was Patrick. Muffy was filling a glass for Kassey as Griffin cleaned some more glasses. Kassey leaned over closer to Mark, "So what made you wanna come all the way over here ta the valley anyways?" before he could answer, Patrick had pushed Kassey away, "ay' move. You're in my space"

"-Who are you yelling at? Remember who's buyin' the beer"

"Yeah an' you remember who bought the gunpowder so you could make fireworks-"

"You make fireworks Kassey?" Mark tried to cut in before this became an argument. Kassey's expression laxed. "Yeah, I do. It's how I make my money. It's a hobby" he leaned back to Patrick's relief. He knocked back a drink of beer. "That's pretty interesting. I don't really have any hobbies. I'm barely good at farming" he laughed. "Then how'd you get into farming" Griffin asked, beating Kassey to the punch. "Well, I just thought I could give it a shot" That's not all the way true. It was when Takakura contacted him- Mark's still not sure how he found him- and told him about his father's passing that made him want to come. Some part of him was hoping to connect with his father on the land.

It's not a strong urge but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if he never left his father on his own. "Yeah but how'd you find the Valley of all places?" Kassey asked. Mark could see Muffy over in the corner filling a glass, her eyes stealing glances over to the group from behind her puffy hair.

"The land was probably put in some magazine or something. Remember when he died, Takakura said he would pull a few strings" Patrick said with a glass to his lips. "Hmm. Say how much did the land go for?" Griffin asked. Mark finished taking a large gulp. "Actually, it was just a part of my inheritance so it was free essentially"

"Inheritance?" Kassey was more still than before. Mark couldn't help but note the silence from the group. "Uh…yeah. I'm taking over my father's farm. I'm his son" It was almost deafening how silent it had become. They three of them slowly leaned away, probably subconsciously. "Oh…really?" Griffin asked. There were those eyes again.

A strange sensation suddenly came over him and he just wanted to escape. "Yeah… I…" he couldn't think of what to say under Griffin's soulless eyes. The eyes you look at an insect with. He barely could get the puff of a letter out before deflating. He immediately went for the drink again. The white froth popped and molded under his nose. He could feel the tension thick like jaws around his throat. He could hear little whispers to the side of him, _He does look like him._ He pulled the drink away. "I-uh actually, I think I uh- I just remembered I need to get back to the farm to ask Takakura something" He pushed himself back off the stool. He just wanted to escape. The air felt tight in his lungs as he pushed the door open, just turned over his shoulder one last time to see the group huddled together watching him.


	3. Encounter

His insides coiled as he took the path up to the farm. The looks from the bar goers really gave him the creeps. He tried to brush it off, they're his neighbors, he's going to have to learn to live with them. Besides, he's probably overreacting anyways. He got a little lost trying to find the path at first. A part of him felt like he was being watched.

On the farm he felt some relief as he plowed the fields some more. He plowed and plowed until there was a definite hole in the soil. He tried to shake it off but the stares bothered him. _Do you bathe in blood too?_ He didn't want to ask Takakura about it, no need is to needlessly worry him. This is only his second day.

Takakura would probably think that he was overwhelmed or something by the new environment. He suddenly jerked his head up, confused. _What was that?_ He glanced around the farm. He thought he heard a voice. A whisper.

He slowly made his way back to tilling, making sure to look over his shoulder every few moments. Soon enough, his thoughts reemerged.

It was only as the red sun blared behind him that he thought he should head in. He was hot and sweaty when he came into the house. The cool breath of the home enveloping his skin is what he was expecting, instead the house was even more humid than outside. It was as if he left all the doors open. He pondered if the door needed fixing again or if that tiny window had opened again.

The inside was shadowy red from the sun and he went to turning on the lights. When the lights clicked on, it revealed the dusty furniture and bed. He sighed and his aching stomach was grumbling. Takakura supplied the refrigerator with fish and some tomatoes, which he was eternally grateful for. He didn't make any haste and ate straight out of the fridge, standing in front of it with his mouth open.

In bed, he felt his bare sweaty skin crash against the stiff covers of the bed. He didn't want to concern himself with anything else for the day. It was only around 7 pm and there was still plenty of time in the day. Stark red scrapped along the floorboards. It must have only been a few minutes later when he heard a different scrapping from the kitchen.

He stayed still, consciously listening.

When he heard it again he leaped from his father's bed knowing exactly what it was. Damn, he pushed opened the kitchen door expecting to see rats but instead saw a lone chair sitting still behind the table. The spare momentum escaped him and he just looked around, slightly confused. He didn't see rats. He saw his plate, fish bones scattered on top, still on the table. He decided to clean it since he was there.

When he left he went back to bed, this time he made sure to get under the covers. The blanket had just eclipsed his nose when he heard it again. The scrapping.

Feeling the heavy blankets atop him and the darkness beneath him, he ignored it. As the night emerged, the sound festered louder in his ears. _Damn it!_ He hopped up from the bed and stomped to the kitchen. When he burst through the door, tired and agitated, he was startled by the stillness of the room. He stood and stared into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the chair wobble. He had to catch his breath.

He approached slowly, squinting his eyes as he got closer. He stopped suddenly when the chair wobbled again. The corner of the table obstructed his view of the chair's legs-which were shaking the entirety of it. As he crept closer he smoothed his hand along the wooden table. It was smoother than he had expected, especially since all the other wooden furniture was withered, warped, or splintered.

He craned his neck to see farther as the chair wobbled. He quickly lunged forward to catch the animal. The chair instantly stopped wobbling. Mark was stunned to see nothing there. _What?_ He just stood for a few moments. There was nothing there. He even leaned over to get a look under the table. Still, no signs of anything. He was sure he saw the chair moving. Confused, he went to the chair-looking it over. All the legs were the same length so that wasn't causing the wobble. He wasn't sure what to think, the dragging sound too was strange. He looked around the kitchen to find some explanation. What could be dragging or scrapping? Everything except the table and chair was nailed down.

He stood still for a little longer hoping to hear it again but it did not come.

After a few seconds, he returned to bed. He wrapped the stiff blanket back around himself. He still had a few hours until morning- and hard labor. The moonlight through the windows was comforting and he began drifting away again as he watched it.

As his eyes closed for the last time he heard it again, much louder this time. He gritted his teeth-royally pissed. He sat up in the bed, the edges of his form illuminated by the pale moonlight. The rest of the room was pitch black but he stomped to the kitchen door regardless.

"Damnit-"

He was barely able to scream before he felt back onto to the ground. On instinct, he had slammed the door back shut upon seeing it. The chair. It was now on the table. The instant he hit the ground he shot away, crawling like a crab as far back as possible.

 _That's not possible-that's not possible!_

He bore into the kitchen still despite the closed door. _Maybe I did that?_ He thought. _Yeah, I was pretty tired. I probably did it unconsciously._ He hobbled up shaking. _What am I so afraid of? It's just a chair._ He breathed in deep and puffed his chest out. _It's just a chair._ He approached, repeating that he wasn't afraid. However, the shakiness in his hand made it difficult to turn the knob.

Even though it was in fact just a chair, he was slow to open the door. "I'm coming in" he whispered despite himself. When the door was wide stretched, he felt his body go laxed. The chair was in his original position.

Maybe he imagined it? That was his conclusion until he saw the shadowy figure beside it. "Father?" The two stood silently. The figure remained still and Mark thought he was losing his mind. "Fa…" he couldn't finish. The figure, it had the same face. The same stretched wrinkled skin that drooped. The dark shadows casting over his eyes left his sockets empty. Mark felt his whole body trembling.

The figure stood high above him and slowly lifted its tree-branch thick arms from its sides. It held them outstretched to him. Mark remain still, only being able to watch with wide eyes. The figure looked as if it was made of shadows and dust but it was still clearly him. His father.

Mark felt his eyes brimming with hot tears. "Father" he whined. The first step was heavy but the second was light as broke into a dash for his fathers out stretched arms. "Daddy, I'm sorry!" He grasped onto the figure, shuddering when he hit the solid form.

As he held tight, he felt his father's arms fall and wrap around him. His father felt so solid, so tangible. Only for a brief second did Mark believe he was still alive. "Father, I'm sorry I left. I-" he was interrupted by his own crying. He couldn't believe his father was here right then and he didn't know where these feelings were coming from but they were so overwhelming. He felt the hot tears stinging his eyes as he squeezed them shut. Mucus was dribbling from his nose and into his mouth as he cried like a newborn.

"Father, I-" he was caught off guard by the breath forced out of his body. The arms were squeezing him. "Father-" It was so tight, he felt his lungs being crushed by his ribs. The figure felt like it was enveloping his entirety. He was suffocating in it. Even his arms that had be wrapped around his father had straightened out like wood and could bare move on their own.

"Da…ddy" He tried as his eyes started seeing white. The arms lifted him up off the ground with their strength. As his whole body was being crushed, he felt something new coursing through him. Fear. It was it's own chemical and he overdosed quickly.

"AhghhhH!" He started screaming. Despite the pain in his lungs he howled and screeched in writhing pain. He had never felt so terrified. His body was moving on its own. Whether it was in self-defense or he was shaking intensely, he was kicking at his father screaming.

His lungs screamed dry as he cried. As he did, the tightness around his body began to loosen and his father's face became distorted almost like it was melting. The figure instantly vanished into nothing Mark felt his entire body tremble intensely. He almost bit off his own tongue as he breathed.

The tears felt cold and ran smoothly now. He just tried to breath in and out slowly. His heart was racing inside his chest. It's quick bursting hurt and he winced with every beat. That night he slept in the fetal position.


	4. Floral

When he woke up, he was startled to find himself in the kitchen. That night he practically blacked out. No dreaming. Just blackness. When he first awoke, he was frightened by the chair again. Sideways on the ground.

With a tremble, he arose from the hard floor and fled for the main room. The memory of what happened last night still had him frightened and the silent darkness added to his fear. Even in the fields as he scattered the seeds with a shaky hand, the memory gripped him. He tried not to think about it but the memories all fluttered back.

As he thought though, he felt an inmost calm. It was a realization that finally released him. That was just like his father. The hard demeanor, the suffocating grip. It had to be his father. Who else would it have been? His father always did have a grip like a steel-trap. He could specifically recall his father lifting him in that crushing hug after he won some stupid contest-Mark really couldn't remember what it was for but his father squeezed him so tight he thought he would die.

He chuckled at the memory.

As he did, the chuckle choked into a stifled moan as he felt the tears tumbling back down. He tried wiping at his eyes as he felt his chest quivering. Dirt gritted against his cheeks and eyes from the tarnished gloves.

 _Daddy…_

The memory came back gain, it was painful this time. The tears stung as he tried to choke them back. His tools were left lying beside him as he wept. The grainy image of him beside his father, a fish dangling from the end of a fishing line, after a fishing trip burned into his mind.

 _I'm sorry…_ He felt his own body rocking and he couldn't stop. The day he left, it was burned too. It's not like he wanted to go but he just couldn't take it anymore. _Mother left too…_ He sniffled hard, sucking back all the mucus dribbling down his nostrils. _We both left._ He didn't have a choice. Mother felt the same way. What happened after he left? He's thought about it many times over. Did father remain in the shadowy doorway cloaked in darkness? Did he feel sad? Did he miss him during dinner? How long did he stay like that until Takakura found him?

 _But father's back._ He smiled despite the tears. They trailed down and wetted his lips. _Father's here now. I won't leave him again. I will be a good son._ He wiped at his tears some more, suddenly realizing that he was out in the open. If Takakura saw him like this…

His head suddenly shot up again. _The window._

Maybe it was his father who had been opening the window. He imagined it, his father's thick arms lifting the pane. He grinned some more. Yeah, his father was quite the trickster, scaring him like that. He could see the grin that was probably on his father's face when he did it.

It was in the afternoon that Mark when about gathering all the mist moon and happy lamp flowers in the valley and laid them out in the doorway of the house. "Father… I know you aren't big into flowers but" he paused, "this is all I knew to do"

He carefully lifted his head and rolled his eyes around the room. The hazy summer sunlight cast white light into the room through the open windows. Dust particles floated in the light like fuzz. It was only when Mark lifted his hands above the flowers that he thought he saw them move.

The red and yellow petals were a strange decoration and Takakura inquired about it a few days later when he noticed. By that time, the kitchen table and dressers were bound with them. Stacked on top of each other, piles and piles of flowers.

Takakura was quite surprised by them.

"Mark, what is all this?" he asked, his eyes opening for the first time under his heavy wrinkles. He was nauseated by the cloying smell of the usually odorless flowers. They were absolutely everywhere. Hanging from hooks on the walls, off the ends of the dresser, the book-shelf, the kitchen table. Mark came walking in from behind him, Takakura had not entered the house-not that he had to- he was quite perplexed from the doorway.

Petals rested at his feet. "You're collecting flowers?" He turned to Mark, his eyes not quite leaving the entryway. When he turned, his foot upturned one or two of the petals. "Takakura be careful!" Mark immediately lunged to the floor. He made show of scooping and readjusting the petals in an ever-so delicate fashion.

"Mark what is all this?"

"You have to be careful. It took me forever to make them how he likes them"

"How who likes them?"

Mark didn't respond, too busy fiddling with the petals. He had his head flat on its side just to make sure. "Mark?" Takakura was quite taken aback.

Mark rose to his knees. "Is there a reason you came over?"

Takakura was silent for a few moments, thoroughly bumfuzzled. "I… just wanted to see how you were holding up but I see that…you have your own…habits already" There wasn't much to say. Mark gathered to his feet. "Okay, yeah I'm actually kind of busy now"

"Oh, yeah? Collecting flowers?" his gaze drifted back indoors.

"Yeah. The flowers throughout the valley are pretty and they regrow pretty quickly too" Mark dusted his gloves off. "Well, you know the flowers would be a good way to start getting money… and with all you've collected…"

"No-" Mark cut in. "I'm using them actually" he responded, still looking into the home. His gaze seemed to be looking into the distance. "Mark…are you okay? I know that it has only been a few days since you got here. If you need anything-"

"'Then just tell me' I know, I know" he repeated back with a laugh. "I'm fine. But I am busy so can you leave?" The forwardness in his speech took Takakura by surprise but he did.

After his departure, Mark resumed his duties. Mainly binding and looping the stems of the flowers together into long chains as he sat on the floor. "Father, do you like this?" He asked, raising it up. For the past few days this is all he has done. The seeds he had planted have hardly been watered in that time.

He knows when his father likes them because they shift when he does and fly when he doesn't. Sometimes Mark even feels a little slap when he's twisted them wrong. He knows father can be short-tempered. He always was slap-happy. Never to his mother. Never. But to Mark… Only after his mother left did he start to hit. So when Mark felt a jab to the skull after displaying a flower crown on the kitchen table, he wasn't shocked. If he just did it right then it wouldn't happen again. Besides, he was happy just to have his father back.

The flowers ebbed and waved in the cross breeze through the open window. He's never known his father to like flowers but in the last two nights, he's sure he's seen the flowers shifting and moving on their own. At first he only had enough to bind a bouquet but now he has enough to bind fifty. He must admit, at first he bound them for his father but at some point he was binding them trying to outdo the last one. It quickly became its own contest and it was quite therapeutic. It helped relieve some of the stress that he had from moving there. From the stares. From that strange comment.

"Done!" he raised it up. He broke a few heads on the lamps flowers but it still looked pretty spiffy. Flowers aside, it had become late in the evening by the time he finished. He was finding new ways to make tomatoes and fish like: fish and tomatoes and tomatoes and fish, fish in the center with tomatoes at the side, and tomatoes in the center and fish at the side.

As he ate in the chair that was toppled over on that night, a strange feeling overwhelmed him. Feeling that, he made another plate and placed it across from him. He sat in silence, feeling goofy for doing this.

As he ate, he kept peeking over to the other plate. After a few moments, he cleared his voice.

"So father… how are you?"

He waited in silence as nothing happened. He listened closely but the room was even more still than usual. His father can't be far so he knows he can hear him. "I uh… had a busy day"

As he chomped on the fish, he had his full attention on the plate waiting for a response. The flowers on the table seemed duller. His ears perked when he heard it. The sound of wood on wood. He paused and continued to listen. "Sorry. I have to check that out"

He arose from the chair, scratching his head. Petals littered the floor. As he left the kitchen he saw the front door wide open and flapping in the night. He wasn't in a hurry until he saw the petals fluttering in the night breeze. "Hey!" he dashed to the door and was quick to yank it back. The wind was howling against the beaten frame and the petals washed passed his feet like the ocean's tide.

Although it was early night, the farm was easily illuminated by the moon. As the door came to a sudden close though, the room was darkened. His hands disappeared in it. Only the moonlight through the windows shone any pale warmth. Mark scuttled about trying to gather the petals from the darkness, only to kick them about and needlessly step on them.

As he bent to pluck them up, he heard a familiar scrapping from the kitchen. "I'll be right back" he called. Immediately after, he was startled to death by the deafening shatter of glass. "Father!" he ceased his efforts and bound for the door.

As he opened it he was caught in a whirlwind of petals. It was so powerful he had to shield his sight from the wind. No open window could cause this. He tried backing away but his body was victim to the pull of the wind. The petals were cast in the vortex, spinning and twirling in the violence. "Father!" he cried but the wind howled in his ears and any sound under the wind was silenced.

He felt himself fall to the floorboards. The chair was shaking and writhing with the table. All he could do was take cover with his hands wrapped tightly around his head. But as soon as it started, it ended. Only when the petals softly fluttered back to the ground did Mark peek through his elbows. Hundreds, thousands, of petals laid scattered across the room. The floor was blanketed with them, they made a sweater for him along his back.

He peeked around the room like a fawn, glancing around for the slightest of threats to send himself running. His own breath frightening him. He wasn't quite sure what to think. The window in the room wasn't even open. It could not be blamed.

As he arose from the floor, he was startled again by the shattering glass. It was a plate. It had suddenly fallen. Mark had seen it from the corner of his eye. He saw the whiteness of it drop from high above him. The ceiling?

He slowly when throughout the room making a trail of petals behind him like snow. The porcelain plate was broken in seven pieces, the food was scattered all along the petals. What of the shattering before the vortex? There was another plate completely shattered into pieces but the food remained in place.


	5. Vesta

Takakura only had a small reservation about talking to Mark when he saw him bringing bag after bag of garbage from his home out to the side of the house. "What are you doing there, Mark?" He asked, approaching from his own home.

Mark stopped to look but returned to dropping the bags-probably the tenth- to the side of the house. "You've only been here a few days. How did you accumulate so much garbage?" he asked, following to the side of the house. The deep shadow from the house provided good shade from the summer sun.

"I'm just cleaning up. I know it's summer but I don't think the old guy ever believed in spring cleaning" Mark kicked the bag as it began to lean. Takakura sighed, "Your father never was the cleanest person. He often went months without cleaning"

"Yeah, I bet. He didn't clean back at the house either. He just expected mother to" he responded. Mark didn't say much other than that before going to retrieve more. In that time, Takakura remained there.

It was something bright that caught his eye. Yellow and red. He stepped closer to inspect the bags. Littering some of the dirt beside the bags and some coming from the openings of the loosely bound bags were yellow and red petals. He picked one up, a red happy lamp petal, it was long and waxy between his fingers.

As he realized that the bag was full of flowers petals, he looked around to all the other bags. They all were full of petals.

"Takakura" Mark began as he came from around the corner.

"Ah, yeah?" he jumped.

Takakura was surprised he could jump so high for his age. It must have been all the years farming. He was planning on helping Mark around the farm. He saw that none of the plants that he had been growing had sprouted. When he went to check the day previously, he saw evidence of tilling and plowing but it was a mess. There were little mounds where he had recovered the seeds. It was sloppy and by the looks of the seeds-which Takakura inspected- they should not be planted so close together. If they sprout, they will choke out the others.

Takakura decided to see Mark and give him some advice. Mark dropped another bag and whipped his hands. "Is there something you wanted?" He asked, finally standing still.

"Er... yes actually. I saw what you were planting over there" he pointed a finger around the house, "That won't do at all. The seeds are too close and they won't grow"

Mark's brow furrowed and a stiff line creased it. He looked much like his father to Takakura when he did that. "I thought I would take a look at it with you-"

"Well, you already seemed to take a look" he was quick to respond, frowning. Takakura didn't know what to say but before he could reply, Mark interjected, "I'm sorry. I'm just kinda busy now"

"Well, do you need any help? It looks like you are doing a lot" his eyes skimmed the bags. "No…well" he began but quickly shushed himself. Takakura stepped in further, "If there is anything you need" and he did mean anything. While they stood there, Takakura took the opportunity to ask about the bags.

"Did you tire of the flowers?"

Mark's eyes widened, Takakura couldn't help but notice. "Did you look through them?" the question had the accusation of some violation on Takakura's part. He scooted in front of the bags like a child trying to hide some misdoing. It concerned Takakura but he decided not to show it. "I saw the petals" he gestured to them which Mark quickly kicked away.

"If you had sold them, they would have been worth quite the bundle. Too bad, you know if there is one still fully intact, then you can give it to one of the ladies of the valley" Mark's ears perked. That Muffy was first to come to mind. Second was the bar. He couldn't help but recall the looks the village folks gave him. He almost shuddered as he thought of it.

"Say, Mark"

Mark lifted his head to him as he had lowered it subconsciously as he thought. "I've noticed that you haven't left the farm in a few days" That's not completely true. He has taken breaks to gather more flowers every so often. "I was thinking, let's work on the farm together. Across the bridge, there is a farm. Go there and you should find a woman named Vesta. I don't believe that you have formally met yet. She can sell you some new seeds" Takakura said.

Mark hasn't been to the farm before but he has seen it. As he collected flowers, he saw a girl come out from one of the wooden huts on the property and cross into another. Her long brown hair hung in the breeze as she crossed. That was all he saw. He was curious but didn't pursue it.

"I can give you some money this time" he said as he withdrew money from his pocket, "so get going" Mark couldn't reply and just went on ahead. Being visible in the town made him the slightest bit uncomfortable. He was hoping not to run into that Rock.

Being from the city, he wasn't all that used to the quite yet. Only the birds and the rustling of the hot breeze made sound. It was pleasant compared to the blaring shouts and automobiles of the city. He was nervous to meet this Vesta especially after the other residence have behaved.

As he walked, the girl became visible through the watermelon patch. Almost as if feeling his gaze, she peeked up from the patch and eyed him. Her long hair hung and draped over the fresh melons.

Her eyes were wide with glee. "Hello" she was the first to initiate the contact. "I don't believe I've met you before" She left it there for him to fill in the blanks. "Oh, uh…" he approached, not wanting to call over the distance. He came to the short fence where she was on her knees resting on a knee board. "I actually am looking to find a 'Vesta'" he told her.

She didn't hesitate to point to one of the huts. "She should be inside right now" she laughed. There was dirt on the corner of her mouth and what looked like juice. A cracked open watermelon resided beside her hip.

"Okay" he smiled and headed in. As he rounded the corner he was immediately halted by a blockade- a man. "Who are you?" he said. The man had a good foot and fifty pounds over Mark. Mark had run into a few thugs back in the city and this man looked the part with his collar popped and jet hair greased back. He'd never seen such a structured body, his muscles were thickly chiseled and created much anxiety in Mark.

"I, uh. I came to see Vesta- to buy seeds"

The man scanned him up and down and left and right. With the cock of his head, he grunted. Mark was hoping he would get his approval. He swallowed hard waiting as the man crossed his arms.

"Hey, why are you standing in the door-" the door swung open.

The man quickly dodged and from the other side of the door, out stepped a heavily built woman. She was even bigger than him-and probably more muscled. There was some resemblance in the broadness of the shoulders and the thickness of the jawline. Her hair was a burnt squash and frizzy.

It wasn't long before she noticed Mark lingering near. "Oh and who do we have here?" Mark was so close to shitting himself. Hoping against hope that the two of them weren't going to gang up on him.

"Um… I came to see Ms. Vesta to buy seeds" he shrunk. There was a shift in her expression. "-Takakura sent me" he was quick to add. "Oh, really? Well come on in" she held the door wide open. Mark was slow about walking around Marlin. He wasn't exactly the warmest person he has met. On the other hand, he barely knows him. On the other hand, he doesn't want to know him.

Inside the small hut was mainly wood and cardboard boxes filled with veggies as fruit produce. He glanced around the room. "So Takakura sent you" the woman said as she walked behind a thick wooden table set in the middle of the room. "What do you need?" she asked. This woman, tall and thick, was Vesta, Mark assumed. Marlin was lingering behind him, his shadow draping over his shoulders. He couldn't have felt more uncomfortable.

Mark stepped forward out of Marlin's thick presence. Scratching his head, he eyed the sprawl of seeds on the table. He sighed, rubbing his chin in thought. His main thought being, how long until they realize that he hasn't the foggiest at what he's looking at. They look sort of like what he has been growing. He never paid too much attention. Seeds are seeds. "Hurry up, already" Marlin grunted.

"Quiet!" Vesta snapped. Marlin stiffened back up. Mark was the most frightened and ceased breathing. "Now, what is it you are looking for?" She asked, placing her hands at the edges of the table. "Um… well I'm growing Tomatoes right now so…"

"So you want to grow some more? Tomatoes are a good plant and it isn't the most expensive seed either. Melon have a higher selling price but Tomatoes are easier to care for" Vesta responded. She cocked her head to the back and Marlin went to a crate and took out a bag of seeds.

"That'll be 30G"

"Okay, uh…" he began shuffling through his pockets. When he felt the money he placed it on the table as Marlin was tying the end of the bag. "So I take it that you are the new farmer" Vesta says. Mark looks up to her and nods. "I heard a bit about you already. Mark, is it?" she laughed. He nodded again. He was wracking his brain wondering what she knows. "I'm guessing that you're Mark's kid too" She smiled, confident in her conclusion.

He was surprised. Yes, he was Mark's son. Maybe his name was a good clue. He was named after the guy after all and he was working on his farm too. "Yeah, I am actually" He glanced around between the two. None of them were reacting to that bit of information, not like those at the bar.

"I thought you looked familiar. You're a dead-ringer for your old man" She smiled, her hands on her hips.

"You think so?" He asked. He did notice some similarities. He had the same thick brown hair that's better off short and the same fat knuckles that he hides in his gloves.

"Just alike. Don't you think so Marlin?" She laughed, gesturing to Marlin. Marlin on the other hand seemed to have no interest. He glared over at Mark and it made him shudder. Mark couldn't tell if Marlin was angry or if his eyes were always so callous.

"Exactly" he answered. Something about the tone made Mark uncomfortable. Almost like there was some hidden implication in it.

"I thought so. Okay Mark, if you need anything else then come again. We'll always be here if you need any help but I'm sure Takakura will help you too"

Mark felt the tiniest bit relieved as he was heading home. At least there were some people in the town who didn't freak out when his father came up in conversation. They were relatively kind, except that Marlin, but now he has some friends. Or at least, allies. As he was walking down the path, he saw Takakura coming down from the path and he paused as soon as he saw Mark.

"Oh, Mark…" he said waving. Mark didn't respond, rather waiting for him to go on. And Takakura did. He went over to Mark and scratched at the back of his head. "Mark, I went and ordered you a cow" Mark's eyes widened. Before he could respond, Takakura continued, "I thought that it would be a good investment and would really help you develop the farm" he said. Mark just nodded.

"Thanks"

"Oh, Mark. Did you meet with Vesta and her brood?"

"Yeah, I did actually. I got tomato seeds" he held out the bag as evidence. Takakura smiled in return.

"Well, that's good. Vesta is a good person to lean on if you need something. There also is that Celia…" he didn't go on. Mark could tell what he was thinking. She did look like she would make a nice farm wife and she is pretty. Not as stunning as that Muffy, but still pretty.

Takakura just nodded and wandered off to the bar. Mark glared up to the farm and sighed. He really didn't want to go home. That last two nights have been hell. He didn't think that having his father back would be so uncomfortable. After the petal vortex, just the sight of the stray happy lamps made him anxious. The last place he wanted to be was home.

As he thought about it, he thought of the bar or any other escape. He could go fishing but he really hated fishing. He could use a drink but he was frightened of the stares. As he thought of the bar, he thought of Muffy. She was so pretty. He could use a mate. As he thought of her, Celia came to mind too. She would probably be the better wife. She could help him plant and raise the stock.

But just then another face came to mind. One he only saw once. There was one more bachelorette he met. A red-haired girl. As he thought, he caught himself walking down the road. She would be an interesting person to meet. He hasn't heard a word from her…yet.


	6. Dinner Time

That night Mark decided it was in his best interest to book a room in the inn. He just could use a break from the farm. Plus, there's that red-head. The room was the same as the last time he spent the night. He was hoping the girl's would be too. He hasn't seen her nor that Rock. Mark wouldn't mind going another century without seeing him again. He really got under his skin last time.

He was only in his room for an hour before he heard a shout coming up the stairs.

"Dinner!", a voice shouted.

It sounded like Ruby's voice. He sat up from his spot on the bed. He wasn't sure who the shout was for. As he ignored it, choosing to lay his head against the pillow, the calls continued. Soon the call was followed by a knock upon his door.

"Mark…?" It was definitely Ruby's voice. He stared at the door just to make sure it was in fact his door. "Mark-honey, are you in there?"

"Yes-" he dove out of the bed for her. "Hello" he swung the door open, "do you need something?" He asked. His first instinct was to assume he had made some mistake that she would need to correct. She shook in surprise from his sudden appearance but then retained her composure.

"I made dinner" she smiled, her cheeks somehow becoming brighter, "Come on down to the kitchen". She ushered him out of his room with her big doughy arms. She was a full woman of charm. She went on ahead after giving him a wink at the end of the stairway.

In that time, he had already stepped out of his door way. As he heard his door shut, he heard another open. He saw _her_ as he turned to her backing away from her door. There are no locks and no keys to the door so when he lingered in front of his door playing with the knob, it caught her interest-not that she showed it.

Mark knew that she had seen him. He didn't mean to catch her eye, he just wanted to hang back and observe. She was cute in a strange way. He couldn't really analyze her from behind though. Clearly a tomboy with her unflattering plain plaid jacket and knee length straight shorts, she wasn't what he traditionally considered attractive. That Muffy was what he usually considered stunning with her curvy and big features. The femininity in her gestures and flirty nature of her stride would attract any man with a pulse.

He was taken out of his thoughts when the girl turned the corner down a flight of stairs. He was following her out of curiosity but mainly because he assumed that she was going in the same direction. As he trailed behind, the girl suddenly put him in a state of unease. As she turned off the stairway, she glanced at him through the corner of her eye. A short stare so intense, he could have sworn he saw his own reflection in it. Her eye had moved so steadily when it observed him that he felt small despite being an estimated foot taller and wider. He was stunned, he stopped momentarily. However brief it was, he had never felt so _seen_ before. It was more than a glance, it was a message. A threat of some sort. But maybe he was reading too much into it.

The wall felt hard against his shoulder as he leaned against it, waiting to recollect himself. It was nothing. He heard a door slap shut and he used that as a signal to keep going. It wasn't hard to find the kitchen since it was where all the talking was coming from. When he peeked in he saw her just approaching the thick wooden table.

At the table, Ruby used a ladle to fill a bowl in front of another familiar face.

"Come on! More, more" the voice had a clear boyish whine in it. "I'm hungry!" It seemed a formation had already developed in the kitchen with three people lingering around the table. The girl, Ruby and …

"I will give you more when you finish your plate, Rock" Ruby sighed. He sighed too. Just seeing the lively animation of his eyes roll, pricked needles into his skin. He didn't want to be seen by those eyes.

 _Do you bathe in blood?_ The question still had power over him. Just Rock's demeanor made him uncomfortable. How could he be so rude to a stranger? A new neighbor? His blatant disregard for hospitality was infuriating especially for being the innkeeper's son.

Despite these thoughts, he stiffened as Rock's eyes rolled onto him.

"Oh? Look it's the farmer's son. So why are you staying here? Run out of places to hex?" His features seemed to spread in delight.

"Rock, stop" Ruby nudged him but he just laughed before leaning down into his bowl yet his eyes remained point-blank on Mark. Something about his gaze was predatory. He had to admit he was intimidated as he approached he assessed the other males' attributes. Short stature, appeared thin under his baggy clothes, possibly older than him. He declared that he was not a physical danger.

"Well, what are you doing here?" he asked over his steaming curry. The steam burrowed and broke under his chin.

"I just came down for dinner" Mark replied, the space between them only a wooden table. His own tough exterior was put on. He made sure to puff up like an animal trying to look bigger. Mark placed his hands on the table, the girl beside him a foot away.

Before Rock could respond, Ruby reached her arm around him to give Mark his plate. "How much do you want Nami?" she asked the girl beside him. _Nami._ So that's her name. He watched her through his side vision. The name was oddly suiting. He watched as she reached a slender arm out to retrieve the meal she was being handed. She had a mole emerging on her lower side. The fluorescent lights above flickered a yellow over them.

When she brought it back to her body, he used that as a cue to eat his meal. It was as he was enjoying the taste and texture of such cuisine that he glanced out to see Rock stirring his curry with his spoon, eyes dead set upon him. He remained quiet but he clearly had something to say. Mark felt like he was being circled by a live shark.

It was embarrassing that he was made nervous by such a puny guy. But it was always the same, Mark noticed. Somehow, he was always more intimidated by the little guys. Even in his few years of schooling, it was the same. While the big guys could beat him black and blue, there always seemed to be a small guy in the back snapping his fingers.

"So…" Rock drew out the sound as he spoke, "What's your name again?" he asked.

"Uh, Mark" he answered. He was taking in another spoon full. It was a habit of his. It was a good strategy too. Feeling uncomfortable, he quickly finds something that take his ability to speak away. He can't speak with a stuffed mouth after all.

"Wasn't that the other farmers name?" he asked to no one in particular. Mark just kept munching.

"Well, it's common to name a child after their parent. We almost named you Tim" Ruby said.

"Ahh, no thanks" he rolled his head back. Ruby chuckled. "I'll keep Rock" he said.

"It's fitting" a sly voice replied almost in a whisper. Nami. He had almost forgotten she was there. Her comment seemed to have caught his attention.

"Hmm?" He turned to her with a strained smile, "Did you say something?" his question did not seem so curious as a confrontation. She stood firm with her stance, unblinking. Mark felt a sudden sense of shame that he was hovering over a bowl with his eyes low while she stared back.

"I said that I think its fitting" She replied.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" he seemed well pleased. "Strong-" he shot up his arms in a muscle man pose- "like a rock!" _And just as smart,_ Mark thought. Ruby chuckled and returned to the stovetops.

As if he could read minds, he turned back to Mark. "What do you think?" he asked with his arms still in the pose.

"Oh, yeah definitely…I really can see it" he responded. He really didn't want to start something. Rock smirked in satisfaction. "How were you ever able to build such muscles?" Rock's eyes widened and so did his smile, he really was eating this up.

"Well, I sure didn't waste my time in the fields. I just spend my time walking around" Mark's eye twitched.

"Oh?" he didn't mean to say anything and with everyone looking to him now, he knew he had to continue, "It's a waste of time to work in the fields?" he asked.

"Working just in general is a waste. People just need to relax and stare at nothing for a while" he waved his hand in dismissal. Mark had no problem with taking breaks, sure, he thinks it's a good idea but he didn't like Rock's tone.

"What does taking breaks have to do with working being a waste?"

"Nothing, that's why I say working is a waste" That probably made perfect sense to him. But Mark was left in confusion. "People just work and work and work themselves to death. That's why I just don't do it. You don't need money to have a good life" His eyes suddenly became serious, "and the worst part is that most people don't even realize this and they are wasting time trying to have what is already there"

"Yeah, and how are these people supposed to support themselves?"

Rock made a show of how he exhaled, "You just don't get it. You're going to end up just like your dad" he said.

"What does that mean?" Mark was quick to ask.

"The man worked his brains out and went crazy" Rock said, "But that's what you get when you only value money"

"Hey, Rock. Back off" Nami said. Ruby nodded in agreement.

"What? I'm just kidding. What are you mad about Nami? You don't work either" He moved back, leaning away from the table. He had another strained string of laughter. The wrinkles in his eyes as he laughs makes a strange expression that is unbecoming of him. He turned back to Mark and stuck out a hand over the table.

"No hard feelings?" He cocked his head to the side.

Mark felt his insides tighten in anger. Even when Rock ask for reconciliation, he feels like he's being made fun of. He had half the nerve to slap his hand away.

"Come on, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. I'm sure your dad used to be normal" Mark could feel his mouth contorting into tight shapes as he let the anger waft over himself.

"What do you know about my father?" the room seemed to freeze in thick ice. Rock was the first to cool from it.

"Huh? Wha-"

"Because you sure have a lot to say" Mark's fingernails pressed even through his gloves onto the table in his grip, "You don't work. Are you serious? How old are you? Oh, wait- you don't have to work because you know the truth, yeah, you've been enlightened. That's how you're able to live with your mother and be a complete bum. Have you ever worked in your life? No, probably not. But you still think you can look down on others for going out and getting what they want in life-"

"What the hell do you know? Huh? You don't know shit about me so don't talk like you do!" Rock shouted. "You're getting pissed about nothing important"

"Boys-"

"I'm angry because you're talking shit about my father!"

"That's what I said, 'nothing important'!" Mark shot a hand out in Rock's direction. Rock's hair skipped as he fell back out of the way.

"Boys!" Ruby screamed as Mark lunged forward into the table with a second swing. He felt a heavy mass suddenly slam into his body and grab a spare arm. As he struggled he realized who it was by the red hair pressed into his shoulder.

"Nami!" Ruby yelled. He was in utter surprise and didn't even hear Rock's insults being hurled back in retaliation. Her arms loosed and wrapped around his chest quickly. One arm fully secured under her arm. Her strength was a total shock.

"What's going on!" A man burst into the room. The walls seemed to shake with his entry. All the proportions about him were wrong. His eyes were too small and his nose and teeth too big. He came in shouting.

"Tim!" Ruby screamed, "Come here!"

Just seeing that mammoth of a man charging was enough to make Mark quit his fit and straighten out. "What is it?" Tim asked, whole body leaning over table.

"The son of that bastard attacked me!" Rock shouted, pointing straight at Mark.

"That's because you provoked him" Nami contended.

Tim's beady eyes drew upon him just as Nami was releasing him. "Is this the new farmer?" he asked. Mark just tried to breathe, all that courage suddenly escaping through the pads of his feet.

"Didn't you hear me? He's the son of that creature- and he attacked me!"

"Rock, be quiet" Tim came forward.

"Are you the new farmer?" He asked him. Mark nodded.

"Why don't you sleep in your home. Why are you here?" He asked, his shadow kept Mark submerged in darkness.

"Well I…" he didn't know what to say. "I…"

"He can stay here if he wishes. He already paid even" Ruby said from behind Tim. Rock's mouth went gapped open. Tim turned to her, looking down upon her. Still, she held a firm gaze and the man just turned back to Mark before stalking away. In the moments to come, Mark almost felt like vomiting as the previous tension that he had forgotten in fear had reemerged even more intensely.

"Okay, so why doesn't everyone head out and I clean this all up" Ruby clapped her hands together, yet her voice shook. Mark just took the invitation and headed back up. Nami was only a few steps in front of him walking. Seeing her in front of him, he had some questions. Why did everyone seem to go strange because of his father?

It took him a few moments, right before she turned into her room, he to rushed her. "Nami-Hey Nam-" he grabbed the door between his hands.

"What?" She asked. Her eyes bore into him. Even when being rushed, her eyes remain in a strict position. Her sense of ease, set him off balance. "What is it?" she repeated.

"Oh…uh, I…" he could feel the time he was wasting slipping by. "Um, I just wanted to ask you… do you know why everyone is so interested in my father? Like, why does everyone keep bringing him up?" He asked, stepping away from the door. She turns away, scoffed, and took a step in the door.

"Wait-" he spun around the door and snatched her arm. "I asked you something" She caught his eyes with her dark gaze.

"Back off" she said, staring him down. They stood like that for a moment and he obeyed. Stepping back, he went to speak,

"Nami-"

"How close were you to your father?" she asked abruptly, not concerned at all that he was speaking. "Do you know what your father was like for the last year of his life?" Mark was taken aback.

"What do you mean?" He asked her yet she held the door knob in her hand and was quickly pulling it to a close.

"Nothing. What happened here should remain buried like your father"


	7. Cleaning

It was a week later, summer was burning through the cotton sheets. No matter the time of day, it was blistering and all the dust and clutter in the house only made it hotter. The windows and doors were left open at all hours just to catch a stray breeze. The dog still hadn't come into the house. Sometimes Mark saw it when he tilled the fields. The other day, he sniffed at the Mark's shoes as he tilled shirtless.

Takakura has been making the rounds on the field, slashing the grasses and piling it. Mark appreciated it, it would be needed by the time that cow came. The only cow he has ever really taken care of was one when he lived with his father. It was always a straggler, always smaller than the others and barely gave any milk. He felt sorry for her. He always tried to pay her special attention but she soon died after only a few years. He buried her despite his father's ridicule.

Inside the home, Mark tossed down his hoe. It was still stuffy. He hasn't experienced anything strange in the house since the flower incident. Well, except for slamming doors and windows. That didn't bother him so much as the weird voices he occasionally heard.

He would go room to room looking for the masculine voice that was always out of reach.

He sighed and just let his heavy breaths move from his chest. Who cares if it's already summer? Looks like it's time for some spring cleaning.

Donning a spare apron hidden in the kitchen and a kerchief from that Celia girl, he went to work. He was a little nervous to go and ask for the kerchief. Takakura was the one who told him where he could get one. The Vesta brood seemed interested, a little too interested, in his cleaning ventures and lavished him with tips and supplies.

Celia walked the path with him to his farm with a wink and a push from Vesta. Inside the home, she was removing the photos and blinds off the windows. She had the idea of removing the furniture from the house and doing a deep-down-scrub-down. With her sleeves tied way back, up passed her shoulders and her dressed tied a bit higher, Mark couldn't help but notice her olive skin that freckled on the shoulders and arms.

She even tied her hair in a low pony-tail. Mark liked the idea of having a woman around the house and didn't mind her talking to him in that soft voice of hers.

"Okay, we just need to move the big furniture now" she said, shimmying behind the heavy oak dresser. Mark quickly went to helping her, trying to flex his strong muscles in her sight. Little did he expect her to start moving it all on her own. "Oh, could you get the chairs? I'll come back to help with the table" she said, pointing through the kitchen door.

Takakura soon came by, poking a head through the door.

"How is everything going?" he asked. Celia was already outside and Mark was coming through the kitchen door with the chairs in his arms.

"Well, you could always help. We have a lot to do"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Dust, scrub the floors and walls, wash the furniture and drapes, among other things" Celia said walking passed through the door. Mark was just going to say dust. He looked around the macomb house in despair. _All that? We have to do all that?_

"That sure is a lot. Thanks for coming over to help" Takakura said to her, "Is there anything I can do?" She walked over to the bed and the little wooden stand before turning to him.

"Well, we are still moving the furniture. You could help with that" she paused, "If that's okay with Mark" she said. Mark just nodded. It certainly would go faster if he helped. He didn't mind Celia taking the lead, she certainly knows what she's doing. Much more than he does.

Takakura went to work taking apart the bed frame. It was made of wood with some wires. Celia carried out the night stand. Within roughly twenty to thirty minutes, the inside of the home had all the furniture removed. It was difficult when they got into the closets and kitchen cabinets. Mark's cheeks turned a dark rouge when Celia found the boxes of candles.

"What's this-" she quickly became quiet when it was evident what the items were. Long, gooey wax candles, some down to the nub. Some with wax melted on wax on wax on wax. They were molded together by it. Celia just quietly took it out.

Behind the refrigerator and where the other furniture it had been was darkened by dirt and dust. Celia brought in hot water and a few clothes and sponges. She really knew how to scrub and put in the elbow grease.

As the hours went by, the house did seem to lighten up a bit. Takakura was fixing the window in the main room and Mark was scrubbing the floors. There was dirt and candlewax caked thicker than tree bark. Tears in the sponge were even cut by it. Celia was having an easier go and pacing around with the soapy buckets in the kitchen. All the doors were propped open so Mark had no problem watching her.

As he scrubbed, he hit something. The texture of it was sharp and it tore at the raw sponge. Almost pissed, he lifted his sponge and looked it over. The inside was flaking out. A rusty nail? The floor had plenty of those. When he glanced around for it, he found something else. One of the wooden floorboards was chipped and raised higher than the others. He hadn't noticed.

He laid a hand flat on the board and tried to push it back down but every time it rebounded and bounced up. It felt loose compared to the other boards that he tested. The last time he was able to grip the end and lift it out. He would need to replace it. Most of the wood was probably rotten at this point.

How did his father allow it to become so dirty and stuffy? When he tossed the board on the ground and turned his body back around, he saw something strange. Takakura upon hearing the wooden clattering of the board, pivoted his head from the window to him.

"Be careful with that-"

"Woah…" Mark said leaning over the whole. From it, he withdrew a book. It was thick, a volume so big, Mark had to stretch the length of his grip to hold the sides of it.

"What is this?" boyish curiosity blooming in his voice.

Takakura snatched it from him and without even looking at its purple cracked cover, he held it away. Celia had stopped her cleaning and was lingering in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey!" Mark shouted. The end-tail of his shout died as he realized he was down on his knees and Takakura was a tower in comparison. "I barely got to look at it" he said, he glanced back under the floorboards where there was a long table-runner in sangria with molted candles laid perfectly.

"I-uh…I'll take this" he replied. Mark was left nonplussed in his position. Did he just take it from him? It was found in _his_ house. He turned to Celia to see if she had seen this strange behavior but upon their eyes meeting, she turned back into the kitchen.

Takakura didn't remain there long, he quickly went out the door, the book extended far from his body.

Mark watched him go as he sat. Still befuddled, he glanced back at Celia who was back wiping the sinks. Her eyelashes obscured her eyes as she leaned over it. He could see her eyes looking more grey than brown. Her gaze had no commentary nor judgement, a camera's lens focused on him.

His sweat chilled as it rolled down his jaw. She quickly rolled her eyes away and smiled. He didn't like it. Something about the whole scenario made him feel a familiar feeling. He felt it last night. He stewed in it. He stewed in it when Takakura came back and he stewed in it when Celia went crossing through the rooms.

Takakura came over and kneeled down beside Mark. "I think I can clean this out" he said. Takakura put a thick hand down into the opening. Mark quickly shot his hands down into the gap onto the candles.

"No, I have it" he wasn't going to let him take over. "Can you go and work on the window again?" he tried to perk the ends of his mouth into a smile. Takakura didn't back away immediately.

"I insist" he said, his heavy hand pressing down onto Mark's.

"No, I have it handled myself" he forced the grin. "It's just some candles"

Takakura sighed and raised himself and begrudging, went to the window. When Mark saw him lift the window pane, he turned back to the candles. Some of them were carved into figures. He lifted it into his gloved hand. A face was carved into it. A menacing expression shadowed the carvings. It was poorly made but it seemed to resemble a woman. He traced his fingers over the curves and grooves. His father must have made these.

There were more. All the same figures though. It was strange. The candles were an assortment of reds and plain waxy whites. As he removed the table-runner he found something else. Beneath it was a small compartment, a hole even deeper into the foundation. With no basement, this was dug into the ground.

Before he lifted the wooden panel covering, he had become cognizant of Celia's presence beside him. The hem of her dress, although hiked up, waved by the breeze through the doors. Mark paused when he realized. He kept his head low and scanned the flooring. As he moved it, he heard the clamoring of hammering from Takakura quiet down.

He took a breath and removed it. He knew the both of them were watching. Underneath, cradled by the earth was a doll bound by wild grass. He lifted it from it's bedding. The entire doll seemed to be made of dirt and wild grasses. Probably from the field out front.

It was morbid, holding it in his hands gave him an intense feeling of foreboding, almost like floating on negative frequencies. As his eyes bore into it, he saw a pair of slender hands scoop it right out of his. He turned to Celia, who had the most expressionless gaze.

"I'll take care of this" She said, moving out to the doorway.

"Wait- I still want to look at it" he called to her.

"Nonsense" she replied, "Boys don't play with dolls. I will give-" she shuddered abnormally, "- _it_ a new home" she didn't allow him a response and passed through the door. The doll that had been cradled in-between her hands in front of her bosom, now dangled at her side by the neck.

He just watched.

"I think that is enough for today" Takakura said.

"But we haven't-"

"It's fine. Why don't you just spend the night in the inn again?" Takakura interjected. Mark didn't like the sound of that, especially after what happened the night before. If his anxiety for the inn was already raised, it was intensified after the entire episode.

"No, I uh don't want to do that. Let's just fini-"

"Then stay at my house tonight" he said. Mark wasn't too sure about this. He didn't like this feeling he was having. The feeling of being left out of the loop. No matter what happened, it always felt like others knew things he didn't. Of course, all these people were here before he was and although everyone seems to be keeping tight lips, they sure have been dropping bread crumbs. To no where in particular but still…

 _It should remain dead like your father._

He didn't know what to do but glowering at the ground didn't solve anything. No one seems to want to tell him anything. The way Takakura and Celia acted made it obvious that they knew something. Of course Takakura would know something about his father, they were buddies after all, but Celia? Vesta seemed familiar with his father. That's probably how Celia knows.

 _Do you know what your father was like for the last year of his life?_

No, but he sure as hell was going to find out.


	8. Bath

Despite his pleads, Takakura didn't help bring the furniture back in the house for the night. He didn't even call Celia to help him. He hasn't seen her since she left with the doll. Mark drug a portion of the furniture into the home but gave up after the heavy dresser.

His curiosity was drawn to the opening in the floor. Was that the only one? Could there be more candles, more dolls? He wasn't going to tell Takakura or anyone for that matter, but he was planning on removing and examining every single panel.

As twilight came in, the electric lights above him attracted flitting flies. The inner lights seemed to absorb the light of the moon and windows the other homes. The outside looked of ashy darkness. He planned it out, the kerchief tied tight and the crow bar he found under the sink, he loosened some of the boards. Some were already wobbled or warped, which made them easier to pop. As was going to begin, he heard a creak behind him.

Takakura. Out in a veil of darkness he stood silent. Mark turned his head over his shoulder to see. He did feel caught and before he could say something, Takakura spoke.

"Come now. I already drew you a bath"

"Yeah. Okay but I was…"

"Leave what you're doing and just come" he responded. He had the same expression as Celia. He didn't fight him on it. Leaving the home, he could hear the many insects creaking, chirping, and buzzing. Takakura lead him to his home across the path from the river. The river seemed to glow as it rushed from the waterfall a little ways back.

Inside, Takakura did fill him a bath and a small meal was set on the table for him. Steamed vegetables and fish. The boiling water was piping hot and the powdered Matcha was in a cup nearby.

"The water will be hot for some time, eat and it should be cool by the time you comeback" said Takakura, pacing from the stovetop back to the chair. Mark had no interest in the bath, rather, he wanted the item taken. It was nowhere in sight as he glanced about the home, Takakura's back to him. There weren't many places it could be hidden. Maybe Takakura noticed the way Mark was lingering behind him.

"Go on, before the bath gets cold" Takakura shoved his hand out towards him without turning. He was busy with what he was doing. Mark didn't wish to make him suspicious and made sure to sneak some final glances at the home as he trekked to the bathroom.

Takakura seemed be eerily silent as he went.

The steam from the inside was billowing and Mark immediately felt his stiff pants itch. It would feel good to soak in the thick water after all that happened. It wasn't until he was stepping into the water, that Mark noticed just how silently he was shifting about. Almost as if he was afraid to be heard, he was even holding his breath as he lowered his nude form beneath the thick surface.

Takakura wasn't making noise either. The door was fully closed, and Mark didn't wish to press his ear to the door and yet that's exactly what he ended up doing. Wet body, nude, legs on the chilled tile as his warm body pressed heavy into the door. Lucky enough there was a key hole for him to spy through. Somehow the hole was entrenched in darkness. He squirmed, trying to see through it. Still, the other side was silent. Was he eating?

The water sweated off his heated body as the steam seemed to hang on his body. His hands were pressed flat against the warped wooden door. Readjusting and readjusting the pressure he had his ear pressed to the door, he still couldn't hear a sound but for the first time he did see something. Not through the keyhole, from under the door.

Quick, the door flung open from the outside. Takakura was standing present in the doorway. Mark was too stunned to move. Down on his knees, naked and wet, he was momentarily paralyzed. Takakura, the light seeming to bend around him and he was shrouded in darkness.

Mark couldn't come to speak a reason for his vulnerable appearance.

"Get in the bath" Takakura said. Mark didn't move, shake, or stir. He was somehow confused as he Takakura bore down onto him. Then suddenly, Takakura stepped back, and the door was closed in front of him.


	9. Behave

_Well there was no way to explain that to Takakura_ , Mark thought as he lay in the water. There is no way to make it seem natural or even innocent. But what was Takakura doing anyways? Mark thought about what he saw. Two feet from under the door, blocking the light from the main room.

He had been in the bath for maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He had no way of telling with no clock in the room. Instead, he plotted in the bath. Takakura would probably have already have moved the book, Mark thought as his back laid along the porcelain tub. Nerves now softened into a gentle state of unease. Occasionally, he would look down to the door. Steam like smoke rolled from the water. Outside, he could hear someone every so often, clearing their throat.

In the blanket darkness of the night, he could, shaded in its folds, search for the item. Earlier, Celia took the doll, he still knows the image of its dirty grass writhing in the wind, almost as if scratching her skin. He knew he would not get that doll back. She probably burned it into the ground. The book though, he might be able to find tonight. As Takakura slept.

The house is small so there are not many places to hide but that applies to him as well. Takakura may be expecting him to perform such an act. He knows something, they all do.

Just then, he was rousted from his thoughts by the creaking of a door. Even only arriving in the Valley a wee while ago, he knows the sound of Takakura's front door creaking. Did he leave?

Stiffening in the water, there was a sudden bang on the inside door.

"Dinner's ready. Come out anytime now"

His voice hung heavy as his fist lifted from the door. Scrapping of chairs, clanging of plates, he seemed to be more reckless with his audibility. Takakura had left some clothes inside the bathroom for him so when Mark left the bathroom, he was clad in a thick night shirt large enough to cover him like a winter coat. It went passed his knees. Water from his hair dibbled onto the clothing and damped the ends of his sleeves as he wiped it away from his forehead.

Takakura was sitting at the table and had a cup to his lips. He didn't speak as Mark rounded the table to the open chair. Mark didn't speak either. It was late in the evening and as they ate in silence, Takakura's eyes rarely rose above the shadow of his caved in eye sockets.

Mark eyed him as he took new pieces of food onto his utensils. The steam from the hot cup, fattened in the air. As he sat, his mind became more bustled with images of prior events. Takakura, the book, the doll, Rock, Nami.

 _It's better that it remained buried like your father._

What does that mean? Doesn't he have a right to know?

"There is only one bed, but I have an old futon that you can use" Takakura said abruptly. Mark hadn't even thought of the bed situation. But this would probably be for the best, after all, it is much more silent creeping out of a futon than a creaky bed.

How dark does the home become at night? In his home, little glints of lights from the inn occasionally did reflect above the hill and into the windows of Mark's home. Only visible at night. Only lights from the second floor did this.

Takakura didn't gesture to it but Mark could only figure that the futon was stuffed in the linen closet near the kitchen. The screeching of the insects and the echoes of the frogs along the river bank made more noise than they did. However, Mark has something he needed to ask.

"T-"

"Your father used to love late meals like this" he said. Mark was stuttered in surprise.

"Hn?" He was confused by the abruptness of Takakura's statement and even more sudden withdrawal. He didn't mention more. Mark knew that they were friends, so it was no surprise that his father and Takakura would have evening meals. But it felt a little surreal to him now _knowing_ that this was an activity his father participated in. That his father wasn't too lonely.

Thoughts of his father made him subconsciously turn his head in the blank direction of his home. He couldn't see through the wall though he felt as if he could see that paternal presence that shifted through his home. Does he reveal himself to Takakura as well?

"Did he?" Mark replied.

"Yes, we usual had meals together with my wife" Takakura said. _Wife?_ Well he guessed that wasn't unusual. Most men Takakura's age would already be married however, there hasn't been any woman on the farm besides from Celia.

Seeing his confusion, he said, "Oh, no, she isn't here anymore". That made it all the more awkward. Still, Mark was liking where the atmosphere was lifting. If it continued, the night may not be too stiff.

"I'm sorry for your loss" he said in reply. Takakura didn't laugh but it was what someone could describe as an amused grunt.

"That's not it, she just isn't in the Valley"

"Why's that?" Mark asked but immediately knew he had made a mistake. Takakura looked grim. His demeanor, still and thick, was submerged in black water. Fat tongued, Mark tried to change the subject quickly.

"What did you and my father talk about?"

Takakura did loosen slightly after a moment. He released some air from his chest.

"We talked about many things. Your father…" Takakura paused momentarily, "was a good man" He dug into his food. This dug under Mark's skin.

"That's interesting. Everyone seems to think differently" he said, shoveling his food like a moody teenager. It didn't suit him but many things didn't. Takakura didn't add any commentary which grated on Mark more. It was almost like some admission of guilt.

"Your father was…the people in the Valley were just…It is quite difficult to explain but many things have happened in the past few years. But that has nothing to do with you"

"That's not true" Mark snapped. "People have been treating me differently ever since I've arrived. The people at the bar, at the inn-"

"Mark. You look so much like your father" he said. Mark slammed his hands on the table. Takakura stood from the table, bumping it and pushing it closer to Mark.

"Hey!" Mark barked. The light dangled above the two of them. With Takakura standing, his shadow draped the table to Mark's figure. In the difference between their figures, Mark felt the twinges of distress.

"Uh- W-why do you do that?" he stammered.

"Hmm?" Takakura hummed as he lifted the bowls from table. "I don't know what you mean" he said. This statement was said so strongly and his expression so straight that Mark almost wondered if _he_ was mistaken.

Soon Takakura went to the counter holding the bowls and lowered them into the sink as if he was about to wash them. "The futon is in the linen closet. You can get it yourself and set it up in the bedroom"

"Hey, what a damn minute!" he yelled, whipping out of the chair, mouth wide and fist clenched. "Stop it! Tell me what's going on! Why everybody is so secretive!" he came marching to Takakura.

"Calm down" he replied, not one inch of him shuddered at the full sight of Mark tornado-ing towards him.

"Tell me!" he said. This kept happening. Mark felt as if he was about to yank his hair out. Nobody's telling him anything. "Why won't anybody tell me anything?" he screeched. Takakura turned his back to him and returned to the dishes, in that instant, as Takakura lifted a bowl from the sink, Mark snapped his hand down onto the glass bowls. It shattered instantly as hit the ground flat.

Takakura was quick to react, Mark felt his heart quicken as he was gripped harshly by the arm-right under the shoulder-and pressed back into the counter.

"Behave yourself" Takakura snapped at him. His grip like death around Mark. His shadow sinking Mark beneath him. Mark tried to squirm from him but Takakura wasn't giving. "You're in my house and you won't act like that here" he said. There was no getting away.

"W-whatever" his eyes rolled along the floor lines.

"Do you understand?" he asked. When Mark stayed silent, he repeated himself, "Do you under-stand?" he made sure to take pauses for him.

"Okay, whatever-" he yanked his arm to no avail, "I understand, okay! Fine. I understand!" He tried harder but still, with no success. Takakura held him for only another moment before releasing him to the table and ordering him to sit.

Mark felt himself steaming, mainly his cheeks, burning red as embarrassment thumped through his temples. Takakura within a moment, returned to the table with a hot cup of tea. Mark had his arms crossed something deep into his chest and stared down into the table.

Takakura, after a long drink, placed the cup down onto the beaten table.

"So, it seems we should have a talk"

"Really? You think?" Mark replied but soon knew to silence himself from Takakura's dreadful expression.

"Mark, yes, there are many things you are unaware of. But that can only be expected as you have only just arrived"

"That doesn't explain why everyone is hiding everything from me"

"No one is hiding anything from you" Mark immediately slammed his fist onto the table, his whole body shaking in rage-

"That's bullshit!"

"Be silent!" Takakura fired back, drowning out Mark. His voice, deep and large, deafened Mark's. Mark quickly felt his body shudder. Takakura seemed truly frightening to him. He remained quiet.

"As I was saying, no one is hiding anything from you. This is just a normal Valley with normal Valley-folks" He took a drink and Mark waited for him to finish. "Your father…before his death he…" he seemed to be choosing his words carefully between each fragment, "He displayed many concerning behaviors and had many bad encounters with the others and that left a lot of people…bitter"

Mark felt a chill rolling down from behind his ears to his fingertips.

 _Did father have enemies?_ Maybe from the bar?

But that doesn't explain earlier.

"What about the book?" Mark dared.

Takakura's brows rose as he sat square in his seat. It was almost as if he didn't hear but Mark knew that he did. Takakura didn't answer immediately, instead he only offered, "The _book_?"

"The one from the house" he replied.

Well that foils every scheme he had about retrieving the book through theft. He can't try and go after it now that Takakura is on alert and the way he is acting dumb ensures that he wouldn't be getting it back without a struggle.

"Oh, that" he said, taking yet _another_ drink. "It's just an old almanac" he dismisses it. Mark just knew that wasn't the case. There was no reason to snatch an _almanac_ , of all things. And then to hide it? Mark wasn't given the chance to argue, Takakura stood from the table.

"It's getting dark now, let's get that futon set up"


	10. Good Night

Takakura didn't get too far towards the closet before Mark was standing beside his seat facing him, "If it's just an almanac then let me see it" he said. Takakura only paused in his spot. It was a calm but absolute stop, his head seemed to move in slow-motion as it tilted over his shoulder.

"I took care of it"

Mark held the top of the chair in his palm still as he held his place.

"Takakura, that is my book. It was in my home-"

"I _took care of it_ " he repeated with more grit and moved forward to the closet. His anger left him nauseated. Takakura didn't seem to really care or even consider this as an invasion. It isn't his call. From the closet, Takakura had withdrawn the futon and a bundle of blankets.

In the bedroom, Mark took the opportunity to surf through the empty room. Takakura was outside at the time securing his grip on the materials. It wasn't clear what the book being _taken care of_ truly meant. Hidden or burnt to a crisp on the hot dirt.

Takakura's room was a small room, a simple room. There wasn't much to sifted through. Only a bed-side dresser drawer and a bookshelf. Then again, if Takakura went with the _hidden_ option, then it could be somewhere least expected. Behind the picture on the wall? Taped under the bed?

He knew how much time he had until Takakura would enter and lay out the futon for him. He could hear him clearly now unlike when he was in the bath. On the bed-side desk, there was a empty photo-frame standing beside a small desk lamp. Mark didn't pay too much attention to it as he opened the drawer. Not much inside besides some dust and apparently the missing photo. As he picked it up from the drawer, he felt the heaviness that comes from snooping.

It was a pretty picture. A sunny day, the long wheat in the in the full fields suggest early fall, Takakura and a woman stood alongside the barn. Takakura looked some bit younger but still no spring chicken. The woman was beautiful none-the-less. Beautiful in the way someone's mother is. Her hair was puffy and big almost like Muffy's but black.

She was smiling and so was Takakura. And yet, there was something uncomfortable about the picture. Every second it remained in between his fingers, the more he wanted to toss it. Quickly, heavy steps ached against he closed door. He flicked it back into the drawer and shut the drawer.

A few more thumps on the door and Mark felt a sudden cascade of relief. Takakura sounded like he was kicking it with his foot.

"Can you open the door? Mark"

Mark was quick to get to the door, slowing before arriving to it. Takakura had the futon and blanket in a bearhug. Coming in, he suspended his stride momentarily and Mark could see over the bundle in his arms that his head was facing the bed. More closely, the bed-side desk.

Mark could feel his heart go on hiatus as the sweat rolled.

"Where are you going to set that down?" Mark asked. He couldn't have actually noticed. Takakura stepped to face him, slowly, a little too slow for Mark. "We could set it up out in the main room. I don't want to invade your room-"

"No, no, no. It is fine" Takakura said, stepping back in his original stride, seeming to have forgotten the whatever he had been focusing on. He immediately set it down on the other side of the room-opposite of the bed.

Mark was feeling uncomfortable with it. He has never really shared a room like this. Well, once, but that was when he was back in school in his hometown. A neighbor boy. They spent the night together but other than that he had never spent the night in someone else's room. It wasn't the shared space that he didn't like, it was sharing the space at night with Takakura that made him uncomfortable.

"No really"

"It's fine" There he repeated that tone. That grown-up voice. That, _you're-going-to-listen-to-me_ voice. He smoothed out the blanket with his thick hands. "Let's head to bed"

"It's a bit early"

"'The early bird gets the worm' as they say" Takakura didn't face him and he went to his bed. There it was again. The wall that always seems to appear thick between them. Something about his tone, that adult voice that puts him at the higher elevation. Takakura was a friend of his father, right? So, it can't be odd that he talks to him like this- minus the cagey edge- after all, no matter how adult Mark becomes, he always will be the son of his pal. His father was twenty-seven when he was born but Takakura, despite being in the same class, looked as if there were forty or more years between them.

He still had his black hair streaked with tinges of penguin white. Wrinkles like folds in clothing creased the skin along his eyes and jowls. Still, he was a mountain of a man, towering over most people in the Valley, Mark would assume.

It had already become night and Mark had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to see. Still, he had no desire to set to bed-although he probably would have if he were in his own home.

There was a window in the room, small and square. It faced his home and Mark couldn't see through the blackness as he stood by the door.

His hand lingered on the knob. He couldn't really think of a reason to leave. Takakura, obviously just wanted him to stay the night and knows that he really has no relationships with the Valley folks yet. There was no use in resisting. Besides, over the years Mark has come to know the wonder of blackened dreams. Sleep was like an empty void, a pocket of time skipped. If he just went to sleep now then when he'd awake, he could leave. Hours of time unaccounted for and it'd be done soon.

"Fine. But tomorrow morning I'm leaving"

Pitch black rooms were none too odd to Mark. He had grown up on an isolated farm, quite the distance from the accompanying town. The street lights long worn and washed beyond the forest of trees and brush. Beyond them, the flatlands spread into obscurity. The nights were pitched in the blackness. The only natural source of light being that of the moon. But even that seemed faint after mother left.

Mark slept better than he would have thought. Sleep was welcome after spending an hour in pure silence- half silence. Takakura's breathing seemed to stifle it. That and with the slightest movement of Mark, the fabric's chafing created its own noise.

Early through the haze of unconsciousness, Mark felt himself swimming. In the darkness, all he saw were long yellow threads from around him. Over him, a blackened figure hung heavy. With no comprehension of this as he was opening his eyes, he didn't have the insight to be frightened.

As he came to, his body rose in a quick jerk. His adrenaline surged as his body was slammed back down by a fast hand.

This made him panic, He made a warble of a sound as his fear echoed from his chest, trying to sit up immediately. The figure came down on him with another hand.

"Go back to bed-"

He knew that voice.

Lights caught his eyes. Coming through the left window like small dashes of light, he saw them and slowly understood what they were. He tried to rise-a hand came again- and he struggled against it.

"Just stay in bed!" the voice shouted, now clearly Takakura to Mark. In his efforts to calm him, Mark felt more and more panic rise. In an unknown situation and in half-forgotten surroundings, he thought he was in danger. The light crossed over some beam and reflected just enough to be seen.

As he tried to raise again, Takakura tried to force him down again, but Mark was struggling too much with young vigor. Being a futon, Takakura must have been kneeling over him. Mark rolled and tumbled against him.

"Calm down!"

"Let go!" he fought. His body heaved under the new weight of Takakura moving on top of him. He twirled under him and tugged at the blankets and Takakura's clothes. His weight shifted and toppled over and Mark like a small animal dug out from under with his hands.

"Hey!" Takakura screamed for him, his voice hitting a sharp depth. It frightened him more.

Mark didn't wait, stop-halt-anything besides trying to propel himself off the ground. Takakura was a big man and tangled all the blankets with his legs and twisted around as a boar caught in a wire trap.

Mark steered with his back legs, kicking against the ground, pushing himself forward. His body couldn't raise higher than the low boards in his excitement to flee. His entire body hitting and flinging wide the door. In his haste, the door slapped back shut as he tried, so haphazardly, to rail through. In him, fear and vomit heightened. Takakura was right on him. Snatching his right heel as he escaped back through the door. Takakura, after yanking on his ankle, dragging Mark's leg back off his knee, raise a heavy fist as if we were to clobber him.

"Mark! Stop it right now! Everything's fine"

His insistent hollering was not what frightened him most at that moment. It was the wild lights bobbing through the windows, followed by the indiscernible rattling of voices beyond them.

"Takakura"

A male voice? It was distorted. Maybe through the warped wooden frames or in Mark's own fear. A sudden dismantling of some outside surface tension was made noticeable to him. Almost like the hushing of the summer cicadas. The outside seemed cooed to a silence and Mark, even in his own dire struggle, had forgotten his panic as he felt the house was somehow surrounded.

In it, a sudden quietness came that was soon evaporated by the long jerk of his Takakura's arm, hauling Mark back. Even so, Takakura hadn't even regained stability, Mark, young and limber, coiled and kinked his body trying to flee from the man raising himself from his stomach.

Those giant paws now gripping on the hitch of back of the knee, Mark recoiled a leg as a bullet was released by the sound of a hard crunch which he could only assume was Takakura's nose.

He didn't slow down, hesitate or show any glimpse of courtesy to the man as he bound from his knees to his toes. Not even after seeing the quick blurred out snapshots of red spurts obscuring him.

He was bound to run up and out and flailed around in zig-zags as he went. Ripping the doors off the hinges as he flung it open, Takakura called out,

"I couldn't hold him!"


	11. Tell Me

The night air was nothing to him. In waves, it flowed around him, leaving him in a void of pure blackness. The lights stopped their bobbing and centered on him. He knew it was the end. Searing whiteness stung his eyes and although he could barely see, he could hear the overlapping voices.

Men, quite a few men and women. Dozens? Who? Mark had his arms shielding him from the immensely bright lights all centered on him.

"Takakura! What's going on? Why is he out here?" A voice snapped, a woman's. He knew that voice but the memory of its source evaded him.

"He's not supposed to be out here" another voice rattled.

"He woke up and got away from me" Takakura quickly explained. Mark though, was leaning far back into the wooden rail of the fence. Shining away, Mark tucked his head into his shoulder as the lights beat over him. Only through a crack between his outstretched fingers, did he squint to see silhouettes of legs.

Adrenaline draining, it had just become clear what the lights were. Flashlights. In that realization, he felt even more frightened.

"What's going on? Why are there people out here?" Mark hollered with a shake, clearly aimed at Takakura. He couldn't see anything beyond the grain and dust floating in the lights. Takakura's details disappeared beyond the filter of night as Mark shifted his arms.

"Mark" he began in reply, "It would be best if you went back inside and remained there until morning" Takakura's voice was still. The rest of the people there were also still and quiet. Searching around in his property he saw more sets of legs, one in the doorway of his home.

His heart sank. This wasn't right. Something was off.

"What's going on? Takakura! Tell me!" He yelled.

"Mark you need to go inside" A voice spoke for him. Then he knew that tone but still it was futile trying to recall it. He lowered his arms now but the people were shining the lights in his eyes so he couldn't see faces. But he could see other things. Details like shoes, white-sleeves on one, something reflective- sunglasses on another.

"Tell me! Why won't you just tell me?" He shouted back and dared to move towards them.

"Don't do anything you will regret" Another voice chimed in.

"I don't think I can regret anything after all you've put me through!" Mark did halt though. The night was old but the wind was still hot. There was a scoff in the darkness. He heard it and felt the tide changing in the midnight rustle. The evening cicada's chatter echoed the silent chatter among the members of this midnight mission.

"Mark"

It was an unknown voice, one he's never heard before.

"We really think it would be better if you went back inside" The voice was young, a male's.

"Why though? What are you guys hiding? Just tell me!"

A noise from the house like a creaking came from the front. He turned frantic and found what looked to be someone exiting _his_ home. This angered him all the more. "What are you doing in my home? What are you all out her for?" he yelled. This time he went running. Running straight for whatever happened to be in his path. Between the lights scattering like birds on the land and the pervasive night, what he could see what nil. But what he did _hear_ was shuffling of feet.

"Hey! Mark don't go there" Takakura shouted, going towards. There were crowds of people now crowding around the house behind him and around the tree that stands out front. Mark didn't even allow the person to fully leave the home, just a footstep out the door and Mark came barging in. Forcing his way in, the person- a woman- was halted right in her step and forced back. This got the crowd bursting.

"Hey! Mark stop!"

The woman in front of him moved back quickly. In the scarcely available light, her blonde hair was made visible, puffy in the darkness. She diminished into the midnight home. He didn't give her anymore chance, he reached out into the darkness and felt an icy wrist. This did startle him. Her form disappeared into the chalky black. Even in the darkness he could see that. All the lingered was the eye of enthrallment. In that brief moment, he forgot of everything surrounding him as he saw the eyes that remained long after her presence seemed to vanish. His stomach sank to its pits. Like a magnet he felt drawn to her and then suddenly, like turned to the wrong pole, he was repulsed by her. This sense was fleeting and he once again stumbled into the woman, solid white reflecting off her block glasses as he came to her. His foot rebounded off something on the floor and he almost lost his momentum as he tripped. The woman ran through passed him to the door way.

It all seemed to happen so fast to him. As she was running out the door he came up behind her reaching a hand outstretched.

"Get away from her!"

But he wasn't the one who grabbed her. Like a yo-yo on the upward coil, as she descended to the ground in her hurry to escape, she was whipped up by the hair. She screeched like a banshee being ripped straight-vertical nearly a yard upward.

"Stop!" In an instant the men were at the front door to take her. Mark stood in the door way and was going into silent hysterics. He had known that he hadn't done that and that he had heard the rip of only what he could assume by the sound of it and by the blood under their flashlights now on her that it had been her scalp ripping.

"What did you do!" One man- still unknown to him- came charging as a maddened bull. The flashlights all razed him, with white baggy sleeves and frenzied eyes rushing him. Smoke like a cold fog on a lake rolled in from behind Mark dark and deep. It was so sudden and rose to the shape of something big, something unnatural, and enveloped around Mark like a thick blanket and rode right through him to the speedy man.

Not enough time to heed the screams of the others, the man was sent ricocheting off the processing building some ten yards away in a deafening crack. The entire assembly made way throughout the farm to the river on the far side.

Not even the most horrifying part to Mark, he saw many more scurrying from the field, from the coop, from parts hidden from any sight, from all over the land.

He didn't have time to agonize, the murmuring of his heart most certainly audible to him as he shook in the door frame. The ghost of blackness when right through him. He felt nothing but the icy coolness of winter.

Their screams did not end when they escaped the farm. He heard them from where his home stood on the end of the plateau. Lights in the distant homes flickered on throughout the valley and that's when he caught a most interesting sight.

Down from the plateau he could see through the trees that the screaming persons were all collecting at the inner inn.


	12. Moonlight

From his perch on the plateau he could see clearly valley folk running into the Inner inn. They are all in it together. Of course, it wasn't by chance they all happened to find their way to his farm, but this just made it crystal.

Who were these people? He hadn't even met most of them and there they were creeping along his property in the night. He watched the inn for a while, in dismay. He knew it. The people really were suspicious of him.

He was startled by the buzzing of the long grass in the fields vibrating along each other. The cicadas, having seen the entire event, snickered at him. As someone was coming out from the inn, Mark backed into the home, not wanting to be seen.

He didn't see who it was.

In the home, he had somehow completely forgotten about the entity that had over shadowed him. He didn't understand it or even know what had happened to send that man flying. The home was still carved in the darkness and he searched the wall for the switch. As he lined the wall for it, he was quite surprised by all the items on the floor that his foot kept sweeping into.

The mystery didn't last too long before he discovered the reason.

As the lights came on he was horror-struck to find his home in shambles. Floorboards ripped out, drawers yanked out, wooden wall panels jerked out. It was a mess. Then he noticed it. The floorboards removed centered around where the book was discovered. He rushed to it, skipping over the abandoned boards.

Even deeper into the soil was dug through. What were they doing? He went dashing for the kitchen to see what else had been done. It was in the same state as the main room. Cabinets stripped, more floorboards removed, empty cardboard boxes left throughout the room. However, some of the boxes where full. Full of what though? Mark wasn't too sure.

As he looked through them, all he could identify was the molten wax of red and white candles clumped around something thick. It was a mess, a lopsided oval with black clumps of something unidentifiable. He kicked the box to the wall with the others- filled with more candles and dried grass.

Of his thoughts, only one thing seemed the most rational. Whatever their motivations were, they were in his home searching for something. Searching through the walls and floors.

He ruffed his hands through his hair and exhaled. He didn't know what he was going to do if they came back. What was it? The entire valley against him? Just then he heard a noise from outside. Fearing their return, he quickly went for the door.

Outside was difficult to see through the darkness but new light was coming from behind the clouds. With it, a ripple of wind. Mark stood out of his door way. The forgotten furniture from hours ago, now seen in the yard.

Maybe someone was out in the fields was what Mark was mainly thinking. Was Takakura still around? He saw all those people going into the inn, but he didn't see him. But he wasn't paying attention to whether he was there.

He went out the door and circled the fields. The long grass appeared gray in the nighttime. Around the bend, he saw something through the trees near the pond. Definitely a person. A small chill smoothed down the ridges of his back.

 _We think it would be best if you went back inside_.

Did one of them hang back? Are they waiting at the pond? A chill smoothed his spine. The pond was a little way back. He saw it once when Takakura showed him around one time. If a person were to look in the right direction under the right tree, they could get a glimpse of his farm. He just happened to catch it by chance.

The person was shadowy under the branches of the trees that rimmed pond. The person's stillness worried him. He could not tell if the person was facing towards or away from him. Their body was completely obscured by darkness.

He clenched his fist. He could take them. Whoever it was. The figure stood on the water's edge and in a gust, the clouds blew by and the entire pond was swept in pale light. The water of the pond rippled toward her feet. Just a woman.

Any tension inside him released momentarily but retightened when he realized he never truly became acquainted with this person. Still, he was no longer concerned with being in danger.

She looked over to him with eyes more dead than alive.

"What are you doing out here?" he called, "Are you a part of them?"

She didn't respond, rather, turned her gaze back to the water.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" What was her name?

That girl, the one he saw at the inn, the one that held him back when he tried to strike Rock- what was her name?

She avoided his gaze and that enraged him. Then it clicked in his mind. The inn. That's where she lives and that's where all the rats went. He wouldn't be surprised if she had a tail. Coming back up to the pond for some surveillance while the others lick their wounds at the inn? She didn't make any moves and he didn't attempt to corner her. Watching her slowly, Mark waited for her to reply to his questions, to confess to his claims. She was less than enthusiastic and in the low swaying of the branches, the clouds sunk beneath the crest of the moon.

"Did you know that moonlight is only the reflection of light from the sun?" she said, "It produces no light of its own"

Mark was made wary by her abrupt statement. He had heard that during his schooling but that was neither here nor there. What was _here_ was a woman who was acting dodgy. He came closer to the flowerbeds surrounding the pond. The flowers were as feral as the wild dogs he's seen at night and they tangled and brushed their height to well above the knees.

"The moon is just a dead rock and yet I come out here at night to see it" she said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Mark replied, "Are you a part of their group?" The woman swept her gaze along the bend of the water until it rested upon him but yet again, she did not respond to his questions. It was really beginning to piss him off. The night was turning old.

"Mark, you shouldn't come out into the woods at night. There are things out here you don't want to meet" Like a slow-moving tide, the moon swept over her, bathing her in its light. He remained in the darkness of the shadows. Even in light, she seemed cold and dangerous. Her skin was even more pale than her eyes and it was almost disgusting to him. He wanted to vomit in repulsion. He was reawakened by that fear he had entered the clearing with.

"They're in the inn" she finally answered him, "If you want to meet them, that's where they are but I have to warn you, there are many of them but one of you".

The cold sweat lingered petrified on his neck.

The clouds overhead passed over again and the light swept away. As it did, she spoke again, "I don't suggest you go. Nothing will come of it. It's best if you remember what I told you"

 _Buried._

"Do you remember?"

"...Yes" he replied. He hadn't forgotten what she had said. Not for a moment. The meaning of her statement was obvious, but the context based on information unknown is what makes him uncomfortable. But at that moment he had another question, one he hadn't even thought of before.

"Where is my father buried?"

He couldn't see her through the immediately and she didn't make her presence obvious with her silence. It was only in the rustle of the underbrush did he realize that she must be leaving.

"Wait-" He shouted and sunk as he stepped into the water. The sound was loud and he panicked himself hearing the scrunching of the dry grass. "Wait!" he called. Only through the knee sunk and he was able to crawl out quickly and he caught her figure walking back out the path. He reached out to her as he stumbled out of the brush. Her arm was icy and he reflexively let go.

"What is it?" She asked, turning back to him.

"You haven't told me what's going on yet, why everyone was on my farm? What's going on?" His shout was nothing more than a dog's fearful growl.

"Leave it alone. Just act as if nothing happened and soon nothing will happen anymore" She replied.

"But what does that-"

"Nami" they were interrupted. In the clearing leading back down to the Valley, stood a man. The woman turned over her shoulder to him. Mark was relieved to have her stare broken. The man stood firm in his step, not approaching and Mark stood motionless too as he recognized that voice.

"Nami, come back to the inn" He said.

Mark couldn't stand it. The man was looking straight over to him. He was hard to see through the blanket of night but with the remnants of light off the ocean he could see was the silhouette of a lanky man and most notable, a pointed hat.

"Gustafa, I can come and go as I please"

"No, we think it would be better if you stayed inside"

The voice almost triggered Mark just hearing it. This is the man. Mark was set back by her sigh. She relented and took her first step back.

"Wait-" Mark regained himself, "We aren't done yet" he reached out to her again, his fingers tracing her shoulders as she pushed her shoulder back. He went to follow but the man stepped forward.

"Mark, don't touch her"

"What are you all hiding?" he yelled back in reply.

He didn't answer and as she came to his side he ushered her ahead, taking a last long look at Mark as she went. Mark waited for his response. He didn't follow, he didn't want to leave the shade of the branches. Finally when she was a safe distance in front of him, he turned back and returned to the path to the inn only saying, "Sorry".


End file.
